Tape it (Larry Stylinson)
by hopelost
Summary: When Modest! Management decide that the rumors about Larry are going too far despite Eleanor, and despite the fact that Harry and Louis aren't actually together, they decide to do something about it. Triggering content, coarse language and strong themes. Larry with a side of Ziam.
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys! This is my first Larry fan fiction, and my first story on watt pad, so be nice :) I have absolutely no confidence in my writing skills but hopefully this will turn out okay, and not turn your brain to mush. This is a Larry fic, with a side of Ziam MAYBE, depending on how things turn out.

Warnings: triggering content, language, themes.

Disclaimer: I don't own nothin'.

Also, most chapters won't be this long, and I am in the process of finding a good cover.

Note: Will Bloomfield is one of the directors of Modest.

Please comment! I'd love some feedback.

The five of us take seats on the couch. Harry is pressed up against my left side despite the ample room he has to stretch out. I half smile. At the beginning, in X factor, I found his touchy-feelyness I little odd, but now it's natural, and one of the things I love about our friendship.

Our manager, Will Bloomfield clears his throat. It's rare that we have to meet with him, and when we do it usually is a sign of something big. The last time we were here it was discussing the tour, and before that it was about the album.

I start to feel nervous; my mouth goes dry. I could be over-reacting, but I can honestly think of nothing our manager could want to speak to us about. What if it's something to do with me and Harry? That's happened before. That was when Eleanor became my fake girlfriend, to cover up a relationship that doesn't even exist. I don't mind being around Eleanor - she's sweet and nice and a good friend, but it's exhausting to have to pretend to be in love all the time, and to not have the option to even look for somebody else. I suddenly feel hopeful that this meeting will end with me being allowed to 'break up' with Eleanor.

I stare at our manager with renewed interest, sitting a little straighter and feeling Harry shift beside me.

"So, boys. First of all, a big congratulations on your tour. You're on a break now, and will start recording your next album soon."

Will breaks off and slides open a draw, pulling out a stack of papers. We all watch him, waiting expectantly, knowing that he hasn't yet reached the main subject of this meeting.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming to this meeting, and apologize for bothering all five of you when I really only need to speak to one." Our managers turns to me. I hold my breath and cross my fingers, hoping and praying for good news. Will waits a few seconds to continue as he leafs through the documents in front of him. "Louis." He says.

I give a nod, and Will continues. "All this Larry business is getting out of hand."

My heart sinks. This is not going where I hoped it would.

"We thought that giving you a girlfriend would help the situation, but it hasn't - not really."

Next to me, Harry puts his arm over my shoulder and I have to fight a smirk. I know he's just doing it to shit our manager. It looks like it's working; the man eyes Harry's arm and his lips tighten. He keeps going.

"We have decided that the Larry shippers need a bit of a push - something that will really convince them that you and Eleanor are really together."

"But we're not." I can't help but say.

Will just sighs. "I know, and I know that this will be very hard for both you and Eleanor, but it has to be done."

He looks like bricks are about to come out of his ass, and I know that he knows I will not take this news - whatever it is - well.

"We want you and Eleanor to release a sex tape - or rather, we want a sex tape to get 'leaked'-"

"WHAT?!" I interrupt, horrified. "No!, Eleanor and I are fake - you can't expect us to - "

"I'm sorry Louis." He says calmly, and I just want to punch him. "You hopefully won't get bad publicity if it is 'leaked', since it won't be your fault, and you and Eleanor won't actually have to have sex. We just need you to kiss for a bit, and move around and stuff, and we can edit the rest."

I shake my head, wanting to be sick. Yes, Eleanor is a nice person, but having to make out with her? And pretend to be doing that with her? With a person I feel nothing for? And have the whole world see it? I will not agree to this.

"No." I say, shaking my head violently. "Can't you just use, like, look alikes or something? Actors? And edit and stuff?"

Will shakes his head. "You know this fandom, Louis. You know that if we put in completely different people they'll know. They'll use their freakish detective skills and figure it out. After that whole debacle with the photoshopped vacation photo..." he trails off, rubbing his temples.

"I don't care." I say stubbornly. "And who cares anyway if they think elounor is fake? It's not like they can prove anything - "

"Louis," Will sighs. "Don't start this again. You know why."

He obviously takes my silence as disagreement, because he feels the need to explain, once again, the reason for my beard. (And I'm not even gay!)

"It is bad for a band - any band - to have a gay member. You know that. So many people would be alienated by that."

"But I'm not gay!"'I burst out angrily.

"No - but people think you are. And that's the problem. If we can't convince people that you're straight then we lose fans, and that will have a huge impact on your career. A negative impact."

Liam speaks up. "You're being completely unreasonable." he snaps to Will. "You can't expect him to do that with his friend. Imagine what his family will think. And if people care wether Louis' gay or not, then we don't want them as fans."

I hadn't thought about what my family would think. Thanks Liam. Meanwhile, the other lads were chorusing their agreement. I smiled at them, grateful that they'd be so willing to defend me.

Will smiles a little cruelly. "You say that now, but what happens when they stop going to your concerts? Buying merchandise? Showing up at signings? What happens when they stop buying your music? You'll be out of a job." he looks at me. "And it will all be your fault, Louis. Do you really want to be the reason that your band mates lose their career?"

The band mates in question all make various noises of protest to Will's statement, but my mind is elsewhere. Is what Will is saying true? Can I really do that to my best friends? I want to tell Will how much I hate him, and how much I don't want to do this, and how Harry and I aren't even attracted to each other, let alone together, but I can't. Not with what I've just been told.

"Where's Eleanor?" I ask bluntly, interrupting the argument stirring between Will and the lads. "Shouldn't she be here?"

Our manager nods, looking pleased. He can tell he's won. "She was. I've already spoken to her, and she's agreed."

When I don't respond, Will continues. "We'll be filming this Thursday at your apartment. We'll send in a couple of people to direct and tell you what do. In the mean time, I suggest you hit the gym. Lose the tummy for the camera." he says.

My mouth drops open at the unfairness of it all. First he tells me to record a sex tape with someone who is no more than a friend, then he tells me I'm fat. I am not fat.

"Are you sure you're not looking in a mirror." I say nastily, then stand up and storm out, not caring that what I just did was hugely unprofessional. I assume that the other boys are following me - I don't stop to check until I am out of the building and in the parking lot. Paul is waiting for us, next to the large black car we came in. He averts his gaze as I approach - he knows what happened in there. I give him a filthy look and climb into the backseat. We all pile in and the engine starts. I feel the car start to move and I put on my seatbelt and slump against the window.

The air in the car is thick with tension, and no one seems inclined to break the silence. Inevitably, it is Niall that does. "So..." He says, obviously struggling to come up with something to say. I sigh and relent. "look guys. Can we just pretend that none of that happened? The recording isn't till Thursday; I have four days and I'd rather not think about this until I absolutely have to." I say.

"Technically you have three days - " Liam begins, but then quails under the look I give him. I am not in the mood for being literal. In fact, I feel like crying a little. This will be the most humiliating, uncomfortable, most painful experience I'll ever have to go through, I'm almost positive.

After a long pause, Niall tries again, this time with a little more success. "Do you lads wanna go out tonight?" He asks in his thick Irish accent. Zayn immediately pipes up. "Definitely - it's been ages since I've had a proper drink." Liam nods as well. I look at Harry, who's been surprisingly quiet. "Whadda ya say Haz?" I ask him. I don't really want to go, but if Harry's going then I'm going - I don't think I can be alone tonight. I'll start over-thinking things. Harry looks up with I vacant look in his eyes. "What?" he asks. I snort and say: "Go out tonight. If you want. Have a drink."

Harry's smile seems a little forced, but he seems sincere when he says he wants to. Niall claps his hands. "Great. I know this awesome place we can go to, it's really cheap and they do really good cocktails and..." Niall prattles on about the club, and I tune out, suddenly too exhausted to pay attention. My eyes slide shut and the last thing I feel before falling asleep is an arm, pulling me in close.

I wake up in my bed. The sheets are pulled up to my shoulders and I am sweating despite it being a cold day. I throw off the covers and check my alarm clock, which is on the table next to me. The glowing-red numbers read 4:47pm. My eyes widen in surprise. That means I have been sleeping for nearly 4 hours. For someone who basically never takes naps in the middle of the day, that is quite a long time. I feel better though, like I am no longer so overwhelmed by doubt and fear and revulsion.

I stand up and switch on the light, wondering how I got here. Maybe one of the boys had carried me? Or Paul? I flush at the thought of that, embarrassed that I had to be carried to bed. I look down to see that I am wearing the same clothes I was this morning. Striped t-shirt and jeans, like always. They still look (and smell) fine, if a little rumpled, so I decide to leave them on.

I pad out of my room, sighing and casting a longing glance at the front door. I miss being able to just go outside. These days, I need either security or hugely elaborate disguises to go out without getting mobbed by fans. I love my fans, I really do, but sometimes...

My thoughts are interrupted by noises coming from the kitchen. I hear a crash and a low, familiar voice swears. Knowing who it is, but curious to see what he's doing, I half-jog half-walk to the kitchen and push open the door. There, wearing only a pair of sweat pants, is Harry. He's on his knees, and seems to be cleaning up a broken plate that lays shattered on the floor.

"Getting clumsy in your old age, Curly.' I tease from the doorway.

Harry looks up, and his face transforms into a smile. "Sorry about the plate." He says, a tad guiltily.

I give him a look of mock severity. "I'm not sure I can forgive you." I say. "That cost a whole two bucks it did."

Harry plays along, and dramatically throws himself to the ground in front of me. "I deeply, deeply apologize, and beg for your forgiveness." he says, then proceeds to kiss my bare feet. I giggle and gently kick him in the ribs. He falls back laughing, and tackles my legs. We fall on top of each other in a heap of tangled bodies and squeals of laughter.

Harry manages to pin me to the floor underneath him, but using a technique I learnt... A little while ago, I reverse our positions. Harry struggles, but cant dislodge me. I triumphantly pin his wrists together above his head and pause, breathing heavily. Harry also stops moving, and I look down at him, grinning. My smile falters when I see the look on his face. There is an intensity to his features that I rarely see, and his mouth is open slightly. I feel my eyebrows knit together in confusion, and for some reason I suddenly become acutely aware that Harry is shirtless. He has a nice chest, I find myself thinking absently. Harry clears his throat and I snap out of my strange, not-really-sure-what-it-was-about trance. I give a weak smile and quickly get off of my best friend, noticing how Harry self consciously crosses his arms across his body. I clear my throat to try and break the silence that has suddenly, and for a reason I am not quite sure of, become awkward.

"So what are you doing here anyway, Haz?" I ask, making my voice friendly. Harry doesn't live here anymore, and while he often comes over, he usually let's me know before hand.

"Well, you fell asleep in the car on the way back from... Y'know, and so I carried you into your apartment. And then when I got here, I figured that after... Y'know, you might want some company before we go out tonight." Harry says.

I smile, genuinely touched. "Thanks Haz." I say honestly. "You're the best." I step forward for a hug, but Harry hastily moves back. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom." Harry says, turning away. He is soon out of sight, and I frown, puzzled. Did I do something? He looked kind of nervous. Maybe it was my reaction to his shirtless-ness? I groan, hoping that that's not the case. He probably thinks I'm mental, and I want to explain that I wasn't reacting that way; in fact, I'm not sure why/what I reacted, just that it wasn't because of that. At least I think so. I'm confusing myself, so I decide to finish cleaning up the mess Harry made. Once I'm finished doing that, and all the porcelain shards are in the bin, I make myself a snack. I haven't had lunch, but it feels too late in the day to eat it now, and to early for dinner. I put four pieces of bread in the toaster and hit the button, listening to the low hum that fills the room.

Harry still isn't back yet. I frown. That's a long time to spend in the bathroom, and I contemplate going out to check on him. Maybe he's hurt himself, or drowning in the toilet, or stabbed himself with a toothbrush. However, before I can start panicking to hard, Harry is back with one of my shirts on. He smiles widely, and it seems he's forgotten, or at least got over whatever happened before.

"I made toast!" I say happily, just as the bread pops up. I pull out two plates from the cupboard and put two pieces of toast on each, while Harry gets peanut butter out of the fridge. We have a bit of fun spreading the PB over the bread in strange, inappropriate shapes, giggling like school girls, before we give in to our hungry stomachs.

The rest of the afternoon (really only an hour or two) passes in a hazy blur. Harry and I end up watching a movie, snuggled together on the couch. Our arms wrap around each other and our legs tangle together in a Mish-mash of red and blue denim. It's been a while since me and Harry have done this, and it's even better than I remember. I find myself paying less attention to the movie (what were we watching again?) and more attention to the warmth of Harry's chest. I grow drowsy despite my afternoon nap, and am about to fall asleep again, when there's a knock on the door.

"Coming." Harry yells, then looks down at me. "You're going to have to move, Boo." He murmurs softly.

"But I don't want to." I mutter back. "I'm too comfy."

Harry gives a warm laugh. "Me too." he says, and we lapse into silence, forgetting that there are people at the door. We are reminded by another louder, more insistent knock.

"Go away!" Harry yells, and I laugh a little.

"We're coming in!" An Irish voice yells back, and I hear my front door being opened. I keep my eyes squeezed shut and cling tightly to Harry.

I hear three sets of footsteps enter my living room and stand in front of me and Harry.

There is a long, pregnant pause. Then, Zayn's voice says: "Well aren't you two cute."

I smile, not bothering to be embarrassed.

"Yes. Yes we are." Harry says smugly.

I slowly open my eyes, and become aware of the strange looks we are getting from the other boys. I stick my tongue out of them, finally finding the will to move myself. I gently get off Harry, giving his curls a good natured rumple. Harry stands as well, stretching and arching his back. For some reason, I avert my eyes as he does this, and turn my attention to Niall, Zayn and Liam.

"Are you guys ready to go?" Liam asks.

I look down at myself. I could probably find something nicer, and more appropriate to wear clubbing than this rumpled old t-shirt, but I can't be bothered. I nod, trying to seem enthusiastic.

"I'm ready." I say. Harry nods as well.

"Great!" Niall says happily. "Let's go!"


	2. Chapter 2

Hi everyone! Chapter two is up (finally). So sorry for the wait, things have been hectic. Hope you enjoy.

The club is overcrowded, smelly, loud and just plain unpleasant. The flashing lights are on the verge of sending me into a seizure and the pumping bass of some crappy techno music is pounding in my head way too hard, and giving me a headache. I immediately start craving the fresh air of outside. Looking around me, I see the lads all with expressions in their faces that mirror how I feel.

"Well." Niall says, almost having to shout to be heard. "This isn't what I remember it to be."

"Shall we go get wasted?" Harry asks after a pause. That sounds like a great idea in my current state, so I agree. Niall does too. Liam shakes his head, and I remember that he doesn't drink. I immediately feel a little guilty, and evidently so does Zayn. He puts his hands on Liam's shoulder and says, "Me and Liam are gonna dance!"

Me, Niall and Harry all watch bemusedly as Zayn pushes Liam through the crowd towards the dance floor. They are soon lost in the sea of people and I can no longer see them past the masses of writhing bodies.

The rest of us head towards the bar and takes seats on the red leather stools. I shift and wait impatiently for the bar-tender to notice us. I suddenly find myself desperately needing a drink - after everything that's happened today, I just want something to take my mind off all the emotions. Finally, a bald man with a big belly and sweat sticking to his forehead comes over, with a dirty glass in his hand. He looks at us with bloodshot eyes and I smell his foul breath over the counter as he asks, "What can I get ya?"

"Three shots. Of tequila. Please." Harry says. The man pours the three glasses and pushes them towards us. We each take one.

"Bottoms up, lads." Niall says, and drowns his shot. I follow his lead, feeling the alcohol leave a burning trail down my throat.

One shot turns into two, two into four, four into who knows how many, and makes three very drunk barely-adult-adults.

"-And then," Niall says, in-between his bouts of hysterical giggling, "They found out they only had two trucks and they had to go!"

We all erupt in raucous laughter, tears streaming down our flushed faces. After a couple of seconds, the laughter subsides and there is a small beat of silence. A girl, probably in her late teens and looking far more sober then we are, sidles up to us. "Oh. My. God." She says. "You're One Direction!"

The three of us look at each other, and start to giggle uncontrollably. The girl looks between us, with a disconcerted look on her face. "Umm.." She says. That sets us off even further and we all nearly fall off our chairs. The girl looks crestfallen, seeming to realise that she's not going to get anything from us. She takes out her phone and snaps a few photos, then turns around and walks away.

We stare after her, still shaking with laughter. Everything seems to be funny at the moment. I know I will regret this in the morning, but at the moment I am having just way too much fun. It's been ages since I've laughed like this, even if it is the effect of too much alcohol and not anything actually amusing.

"C'mon Lou," Harry hiccups. "Lets go dance!" he grabs at my hands and I pull them away. "No, I don't want too." I say, pouting. I'm enjoying myself here and I don't want to move. Plus wouldn't it be a bit weird? I know it's Harry, but still...

"Aw come on Lou! Pleeeease!" Harry says, with wide eyes. I hesitate for a second but then think _YOLO_. I slide off my chair, and stumble towards Harry, who tries to catch me but ends up just dumping me on the floor. I giggle and spend a good half-minute trying to work my way back up to standing, while Harry laughs his head off. When I'm finally in an upright position, Harry and I make our way to the dance floor, leaving Niall behind at the bar.

The dance floor is as crowded as the rest if the club, and Harry and I have to stand quite close to each other. Harry starts moving to the beat, and I unsurely follow his lead. I am never sure how to dance at clubs. I always want to revert to the choreography we do at concerts and things (not that we even do much of that), but I know that that is totally out of place in this setting.

Harry sniggers at me and I roll my eyes, being to drunk to care wether I look like an idiot or not. As things progress, Harry and I edge closer and closer until we're basically touching, and I can feel his breath on my face. Shock lances through me when I feel something brush against my crotch, and I realise that Harry was grinding on me, albeit gently. We both stop. Harry stares at me unblinkingly, his expression unreadable, and I stare back, having to tilt my head up to properly look at him. Another giggle escapes me, but this time it's nervous and unsure. What is Harry doing? I'm not... We're not...

Harry does it again, this time harder, and I realise that it feels good. I know that we shouldn't but my head's swimming in alcohol, and it feels good, and we're probably not going to remember any of this in the morning anyway, so why the fuck not?

I grind my hips back into Harry's. His face lights up and he loops his arms around my neck. This feels really weird, but not in a bad way and I move my hips again, with more force.

Half an hour goes by, then an hour and Harry and I are still dancing. Although, it's a lot less like dancing and more like humping, but whatever. I'm enjoying myself, surprisingly enough. It's strange doing this with a boy and not a girl, but this is Harry, my best friend, so I suppose it doesn't mean anything.

We are interrupted by Zayn, who comes over to us, followed by a very distressed looking Liam. Zayn seems very distracted, and doesn't even seem to have noticed what Harry and I have been doing. We break away from each other so we can hear what Zayn is shouting.

"Can we go?" Zayn asks.

I pout. "Noooo." I say, giggling. "I'm having too much fun!" And I am. I don't want to go, I want to keep dancing with Harry.

Zayn looks between us. "Please." He says, and there is such desperation to his tone, that even in my drunken state I can see it. I wonder what happened, but don't ask and agree to his request. Harry nods as well, looking a little disappointed.

The four of us get off the dance floor and go looking for Niall. He's no longer at the bar and I can't see him anywhere. Just before I can start to panic, we spot him in the corner, making out with a short brunette. Zayn marches up to them and pulls them apart. "What the hell, Zayn?" Niall slurs.

"We're leaving." Zayn says shortly. Niall starts to protest, but Zayn doesn't listen, and just grabs his arm and yanks him towards the exit. The rest of us follow them, and I send a questioning look to Liam, who looks at the ground and doesn't say anything.

We make it back to the car, and Harry, Liam and I all get in the back seat. Niall takes the passenger, and Zayn drives. The tension between Zayn and Liam is palpable, and Harry and I exchange confused looks, then erupt into a fit of giggles as we remember what we were doing before. Harry lies sideways across the backseat and puts his head in my lap, smiling up at me. "I had a great time tonight, Boo." He breathes.

"Me too." I say back. The other lads are looking at us funny, but I don't care.

"Will you..." I say, swallowing nervously.

"Yes?" Harry asks curiously.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?"

Harry's face is priceless; and I nearly kill myself laughing. "Not like that!" I hiccup. "Just... In my apartment." For some reason I am finding myself craving Harry. Just being around him is making me feel somehow better, like I am not being forced to record a sex tape with someone. Maybe it's the alcohol, but I don't care.

Harry's face relaxes, and he nods. "Of course." He says.

I stumble into my apartment and flick on the light, Harry trailing behind me. I flop onto the couch, groaning. My head feels sore and I think I might be about to throw up. Harry sits down next to me, looking about as bad as I feel. "I think I might have had to much to drink." I say slowly.

Harry sniggers a little. "Ya think?" he asks.

There is a pause. "I can't believe I did that with a dude." I say, mostly to myself. Harry takes a moment to catch on, and when he does he asks: "Did you... Did you like it?"

"Yeah." I say huskily. "You're my best friend, Haz."

Harry looks a little... Disappointed? I'm not sure. He nods though, and smiles. "Me too."

"Oh, the things we do when we are drunk." I say, laughing. Harry chuckles, a little reluctantly.

"Well," he says, "It's late and I'm tired. Do you want to go to bed?"

"Okay. Let me pee first." I say, standing up. Harry stands too, and walks into the bedroom while I make my way to the bathroom. I do my business and go to wash my hands. There is something red on the edge of the sink. Just a tiny little bit, but enough to draw my attention. I stare at it, confused. Is that blood? It looks a lot like blood. Shrugging, and being too tired to care about it too much, I wash it away and put it out of my mind.

The light in the bedroom is off, but I can still make out the shape of Harry underneath the covers. I silently pad over to the bed and pull back the blanket. Harry looks at me indignantly. "I was just getting comfy, Lou. Now my back is cold."

"Well." I say cheekily. "Let me warm it up for you." The line is possibly the most corny in existence, but Harry still blushes. I slide in-between the covers and turn to look at Harry. "G'night, Haz." I say.

"You're going to have the worst hangover in the morning." He says by way of answer.

"You mean we're going to have the worst hangover in the morning." I correct.

Harry hums his agreement. "Yeah. Well it's worth it."

I nod, smiling. That's true. It is.

And that's a wrap. Thanks for reading guys, I really appreciate it so much, you have no idea. It's a little bit shorter than chapter one, but that means quicker updates right? I will get right on to chapter three, and will have it up in the next week or so.

Please leave a comment! I'd really like to know what you guys think.

Also, this story is also on wattpad if you prefer that format, and more chapters have been posted.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 is up! Sooo sorry it took so long - we had this giant musical thing going on and I've had rehearsals every day after school for two hours for the past week and a half. But we performed last night, so that's all over now, so hopefully updates will be coming quicker from now on.

When I wake up the next morning, I wish that I hadn't. There is a pounding in my head, and pain behind my eyes that makes me feel like someone is stabbing me. I groan, already regretting drinking so much. What actually happened last night? I remember arriving at the club... And getting drunk... And dancing. I was dancing with someone. My eyes fly open as I remember: I was dancing with Harry. Doing a little more then dancing, actually. What the fuck was I thinking? Harry is my friend. My friend who is a guy. And I was doing that stuff with him!

I tell myself to calm down. I was drunk. It didn't mean anything, to me or to him, and it's something we can laugh about later on. I nod to myself, and then moan as a fresh burst of pain shoots across my skull.

"Are you okay?" A quiet voice asks from next to me. It's Harry - and only now do I remember my request I made of him last night. Another stupid thing to add to my list. Yes, Harry and I have shared a bed before, but we were sober, and had not been doing all that stuff beforehand. I take a second to compose myself, and then answer.

"I should be asking you that question, Curly." I say. My tongue feels swollen and my voice is hoarse. "You drank even more than I did."

Harry makes a quiet noise of agreement. "I shall never drink again." He vows. I snort.

"Right. Me neither, until the next time we want to have a night out."

Harry doesn't answer, and I feel him start to move next to me. I feel cold air hit as the sheets are pulled back and I groan. "Ugh." I say. "it's too cold."

Harry laughs, and the sound stabs at my ears. "You stay here. I'll go make breakfast. And get you some advil."

The thought of advil is heavenly. I nod eagerly, and pull the sheets back over myself. "Hurry back." I whisper.

Harry leaves, and immediately the room feels emptier. I stare idly at the cracks on the wall, counting them over and over.

It isn't long before Harry returns, a glass of water in one hand and the packet of medication in the other. I sit up, and my head spins dizzyingly. I take both things from his hands. He sits next to me as I pop out a pill and swallow it, and then pass the packet to him. He seems deep in thought as he wordlessly takes it, and doesn't appear to be in the reasonably cheerful mood he was in when we woke up.

"Are you okay?" I ask him concernedly. He looks, up and smiles. A little too forced to be genuine, but it still reassures me. "Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine. Just hungover." He says.

I nod my understanding, and there is a beat of silence.

"Louis?" Harry says tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"What... What were we doing last night? I mean, what did it mean... To you?"

I take a few seconds to gather my thoughts. I am not sure why he's asking. Surely he knows that it wasn't anything more than a drunken mistake, right? But maybe he just wants to make sure that I know that too. I recall the whole shirtless - episode the day before and grimace.

"We were drunk." I say firmly. "It was just two friends being stupid. It didn't mean anything to me."

Harry's expression is masked as he nods. "Well," he says, and gets up. " Do you want breakfast? Because there are some eggs in the fridge that expire tomorrow."

I consider it for a second. I don't feel like eating, but if the eggs are going to expire... Plus, for some reason, the thought of Harry cooking for me is bizarrely attractive.

"Yes please." I say. "You're the best, Haz."

Harry and I end up watching another movie, but this time we don't cuddle. In fact, we don't touch at all. I wonder if we've ruined everything by doing what we did last night. The thought literally makes me terrified - if I lose Harry because I was stupid and got drunk, then I will never forgive myself. With that in mind, I scoot across the couch so our shoulders are touching. It feels nice. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Harry turn his head to look at me, but I keep my attention on the T.V.

When the movie eventually finishes, neither of us move. My limbs feel leaden, and my head is heavy. Harry clears his throat.

"So," he says. "How are you coping... With the whole Eleanor thing?"

I sigh. "Not too bad. I'm trying not to think about it actually."

"I was thinking..."

"Yes?"

"I was thinking it might be good for you to see Eleanor before you do this. Just to like, talk things over before you have to..." his voice holds nothing but sincere concern, and even though I don't want to do what he is suggesting, I can see why this would be a good idea. I want this tape thing with Eleanor to be as least weird as possible, and preferably not an impact on our friendship.

"I'm not sure." I hedge. "I guess it couldn't hurt."

Harry nods enthusiastically. "Great. You should call her."

I sigh again, and pull out my phone. Eleanor's number is on sped dial 9, and my fingers click on the glossy touchscreen as I hit the right button. She picks up on the third ring.

"Louis." She greets. Her voice is nervous and I can tell from that one word that she is looking forward to this tape just as much as I am.

"Hi, El." I say. "Listen, I was thinking that we should have a chat before Thursday. Just to make this process as easy as possible." The line goes silent, and for a moment I think that Eleanor has hung up. "El?"

"Right. Yes. Sorry. Um, okay." She says. "What do you have in mind?"

"This afternoon maybe? I can drop by yours or you can drop by mine?

"I'll go to yours. I was planning to head over that way later anyway." The poor girl sounds like she's been crying. It's not hard to imagine why.

"Eleanor?" I say concernedly. "Are you okay?" Harry puts his hand on my knee, and gives it a squeeze. I flash him a quick smile.

"I'm fine." Eleanor says. "It's just..."

"I know. But it'll be okay." I say soothingly. "We'll get through this." It feels like I'm reassuring myself just as much as I'm reassuring Eleanor at the moment.

"Yeah. I know. I'll see you in an hour or two then." She says.

"Bye, El."

"Bye, Louis."

I decide to make a quick dash to the shops before Eleanor arrives, so I can buy some milk to make coffee. Harry tags along, and the both of us pile into my car, wearing sunglasses and beanies pulled low over our faces. We wrap scarves around our necks to cover our chins, and by that point Harry and I can barely recognise each other. The downside to our disguises, however, is that we get very warm. In the short trip from the car to the shop, the humidity plus all the excess clothes makes it feel like I am running through hot soup.

It is a great relief to find that the shop is air-conditioned. We stroll casually down the brightly lit aisle, laughing to ourselves at a teenage group of girls, who are having a very loud, heated discussion.

"Larry is totally real!" One says. "Have you seen the way they look at each other? They're, like, soul mates."

The other one snorts. "They're just friends. Louis has Eleanor. And Harry has been with a ton of girls. They aren't even gay."

"They're bisexual. C'mon. You have to admit that there's something there. What about all their tattoos? And all the publicity around Elounor? It's totally trippy."

"No it's not. That's the thing with you Larry shippers. You have a conspiracy about everything, even when there's nothing there."

"Omg, so not true. You must be totally blind! They are sooo together, it's obvious."

When the anti-Larry girl doesn't deign to reply, the other one goes on. "I mean, if they're not together, then I will, like, seriously, give up on love."

Harry snorts, and I barely manage to hold in my laughter. This is so ridiculous.

The girls, hearing our outburst, turn to look at us. I quickly turn around and walk back the way we came, not wanting to be recognised. Too late. "OH MY GOD!" The Larry girl screams, and then promptly starts crying. I sigh, and stop.

The other girl is more composed, but only slightly. She's hyperventilating, and clutching her chest like her heart is about to break out.

Harry walks closer to them, his sharpie that he always carries around in his hand. "Hi, loves." He says. This sends the girls into another fit of fangirling. Once they are done, Harry offers to sign something, and they pull out some stuff from their pockets.

I watch, amused and slightly bewildered. I doubt I will ever understand what makes our fans react like this.

Harry beckons me over, and I plaster a smile on my face as I walk towards them. "Hello, girls." I say politely. The Larry girl looks between me and Harry, an incredulous look on her face.

"Wait." She squeals. "You, and Harry are... are... Shopping together!" She seems speechless, and the other, anti-Larry girl sighs exasperatedly. "Sarah.." She says, but Sarah cuts her off.

"Is Larry real?!" She asks, her eyes wide.

"No." I say, at the same time that Harry says,

"Yes."

All three of us stare at him with open mouths. I'm shocked, to say the least, especially when Harry puts his arm around my waist and yanks me into his side.

Sarah looks like Christmas has come early, while the other one looks quite disbelieving.

"What are you doing?" I whisper out of the corner of my mouth. He has to have a reason for doing this, right?

"Just play along." Harry whispers back. I have absolutely no idea what he's doing, but I trust Harry. I nod, a tiny movement of my head.

"I told you so, I told you so, I told you so!" Sarah starts chanting.

"So what about Eleanor, then?" The anti Larry girl asks. Well, that's not a hard question to answer.

"We're just good friends." I say honestly. "She's set up by management."

Sarah squeals, and pulls out her phone. I quickly disengage myself from Harry - if they get a photo of us together like that then we are screwed.

We let her take pictures of us individually though, and she seems to be satisfied.

"Bye girls!" Harry says, and we wave to them, then start walking away.

It's not to our surprise when they follow us, shouting questions and comments. If this continues, more and more people will hear and be drawn over here, and Harry and I will never get out.

I turn towards them, a pleasant smile on my face.

"Look girls, I understand that this is exciting for you, but I would really like to get home. It's been ages since I've gotten to spend time with Harry, and I really want to fuck him."

Their faces are priceless. I have to fight a giggle, especially when I see that Harry is looking just as shocked. Needless to say, when Harry and I sprint back to our car, we are not followed.

Thank you all so so much for reading, please leave a comment to let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**I know this chapter is short and I'm sorry! It was going to be a part of the next chapter, but I felt that this was an important moment between the boys and should have it's own. There is a lot -** and** I mean a lot - of swearing in this chapter. Just so you know :)**

"So what was that about?" I ask Harry once we are safely back in the car.

"You mean why did I tell them Larry was real?" He shrugs. "Just for a bit of a laugh. You have to admit it was pretty funny."

"You told them we were together... For a laugh?" I ask incredulously.

"Well... Yeah. But don't worry. No one will believe them."

That's not what I'm worried about. Harry and I are trying to get rid of the Larry rumors, not encourage them! And there I was, thinking that there was an actual, legitimate reason for Harry to say and do all that stuff, when really, he was doing it... for fun.

"Why would you do that?" I say, starting to get a bit mad. "That is so. Fucking. Stupid."

"Calm down, Louis. It's not a big deal. You were the one that told them we were fucking." Harry's voice is controlled, but I see his hands tighten on the steering wheel - a sign that he's starting to get worked up too.

The car speeds up, and the trees next to the road are going by in blurs of green and brown.

"Yes, but I thought there was a reason! I thought that you... That you... Fuck! I don't even know what I thought! But I thought that there would be a reason for you to go spouting complete and utter bullshit! You know all this crap really fucking bothers me Harry." I say, my voice rising to a crescendo as I start to shout.

"Don't get all high and mighty with me! You were enjoying that just as just as much as I was. It didn't fucking do anything to our image; they're fucking fans. And I bet I made one of them really happy! Don't... Be so fucking haughty! Does our friendship mean shit to you?" He yells, and by the time he's finished his chest is heaving from the effort.

"Our friendship," I say quietly, dangerously, "means everything to me. I would do anything to protect you. And I hate that we can never hang out anymore. And the reason we can never hang out anymore is because you pull shit like that!"

His mouth drops open. "Oh, so it's all my fault? What about the love bites? What about all that fucking stupid flirting in interviews? What about all the times that you would pretend to snog me, or hit my ass, or kiss my cheek? Is that all my fault?!"

I hit the window in frustration. "Just shut up, Harry!" I'm screaming now. "We're just fucking friends and that should be fucking obvious to the fans and I don't even know why they fucking ship us or whatever the fuck they do because I don't fucking love you, and all of that shit is fucking meaningless and I don't fucking understand why I can't just be your friend without all this fucking shit! And it's different Harry! It's different to go around telling people that we're together because it's not fucking true! So don't!

Harry doesn't answer, and when I turn to look at him, I see that he has tears in his eyes. "Oh shit." I mutter. I hate seeing Harry cry, especially if it's because of something I did. "Haz?" I say tentatively. "Are you okay?"

He doesn't answer, and I see him make an effort to blink away the tears. I sigh, knowing he shouldn't be driving when he's like this. "Pull over." I say. Harry keeps driving, which doesn't surprise me one bit. "Harry Styles, if you don't pull over right now I swear to God..."

I feel the car sow down, and we pull to a halt on the side of the deserted road. "Thank you." I sigh, relieved.

"What?" Harry asks savagely.

I swallow, and try to ignore his tone. "Why... Why are you crying, Hazza?" I ask. Crap. That sounded so condescending. Too late to take it back now.

"Oh, now you care do you?" he snarls. "Well, for your information, I don't want any of that shit either. But I know that we just have to deal with it! All the other boys get shipped with each other and it doesn't fucking bother them! People will think what they want to think, Louis, and we can't stop them from doing that. I didn't think that saying that stuff would be such a big deal. I'm fucking sorry." The venom in his voice is tangible, and I quail.

"Don't..." I say. "Don't be sorry. It's... I just... I really don't want people to think I'm gay, and I don't want to be judged and I'm fucking terrified that things between me and you are going to get awkward if all this Larry stuff continues and I hate Management and I hate that because of all this stuff with you I have to record a fucking sex tape and... Ugh. I just hate... All this pressure!"

"I just don't get," Harry says in a small voice, his hands twisting nervously in his lap, "why being gay is such a big deal."

I open my mouth to answer. I am about to tell him that of course it's not a big deal - I just don't want to deal with all the hate - when something clicks.

"Harry," I say gently, "you're not... You're not gay are you?"

Harry jerks away from me like he's been stung. "No!" he says vehemently. "Of course I'm not!"

"It's fine if you are -"

"SHUT UP, LOUIS!" He yells. "I'M NOT GAY, SO FUCKING SHUT UP!"

'"It won't change anything -"

I stop when I see the look on his face. It is honestly scares me, and I flinch.

"Harry..." I say softly, trying a new approach. "You know you can tell me anything right?"

He looks at me, and when he answers his voice is low and hard. "If one more fucking word comes out of your mouth for the rest of this trip, then I swear, I will kick you out of this car."


End file.
